The Way to Texas (15 page)

He didn't talk to Karen. He was afraid of what he might say to her now that they were alone.

“I get you're probably mad, Ty, but I really had Laurel's best interests in mind. Truly.”

He didn't respond. Just turned to look at the woman who sat with her legs crossed and her hands folded elegantly in her lap. She looked incongruous in his old pickup.

She met his eyes with not the least bit of apprehension in the blue depths. She looked good. She'd lost some weight and wore her designer jeans and blouse like a Plano blue-blooded heiress. She had manicured fingernails and ruby-red lips. Her perfume wafted across the cab, tickling his nose, reminding him of how she'd always dabbed the expensive French scent between her breasts before she came to bed. She was lovely. Always had been. Beautiful smile, beautiful body and lots of maintenance.

He was glad to be rid of her.

“I don't really want to talk about it, Karen. I'm too pissed.”

She patted his arm. “Don't be mad, Ty. We'll spend Thanksgiving together. We're still a family, you know.”

Her words sounded like a purr. What the hell?

“You will always be the mother of my child, but we are not a family any longer. And you are not spending Thanksgiving dinner with us. Hope the bed-and-breakfast has something planned.”

“Come on, Ty. Don't be like that. You know we will always have something.” Karen rubbed his arm then patted his thigh. The move surprised him. His former
wife had not shown any affection toward him since before he left for Iraq. He wondered if she and Corbin were on the outs.

He picked up her hand and put it back in her lap. “Yes, we will have something—Laurel. But that's it. You made that choice.”

Karen folded her arms. “I don't know why you have to be so nasty. We went through counseling so we could accept the good and bad in each other. Don't you want this to work?”

Tyson waved at Marvin Settler as the mailman passed in his ancient Cadillac. “Define
this.
”

“Our relationship.”

He snorted.

“You are the father of my child. We'll always have that between us.” Karen studied her hands. She no longer wore a wedding band on her left hand, but she wore a large ruby ring on her right. “I've missed you, Tyson.”

Tyson was tempted to slam on his brakes, toss her onto the side of the road and haul ass back to his grandfather's. The nerve of the woman. To show up on his time, intrude on his holiday then say things about missing him and still being in a relationship. But he didn't toss her out. He kept driving.

“Haven't you missed me a little?” Karen asked. He could feel her eyes on him. Eyes he'd once loved and looked into as he kissed her. But he didn't love her anymore.

“Karen, I don't know what you're doing, but I need you to stop.”

“What?” she said, pretending to look out the window at the small clapboard houses on the fringe of town. Sweetgum and pecan trees dazzled orange and gold against the darkening sky. Most of the houses had
neatly trimmed yards and planters of festive mums. Dogs barked, children biked and neighbors called out to each other as they arrived home from work. More and more, Oak Stand burrowed into his heart. He knew he'd be happy making his permanent home here. Dawn flashed into his mind. Dawn sitting on a porch swing, barefoot and scrumptious, at the end of the work day.

“You're playing games with me,” he said, turning onto the street beside the square. Tucker House was to the left and Margo sat on the porch with Mr. Levitt and Clara Jennings. He tooted his horn.

“Who's that?” Karen asked, ducking her head to get a glimpse.

“That's the house I'm working on. It's an adult day care center,” he said, hooking a turn down Beech Street heading toward the B and B.

“Oh,” she said, dismissing the topic. “Come on, Ty. I'm not playing games. I've been doing some thinking is all. I've been wondering if I made a bad decision not staying with you. I saw you pull up to our house last month and all those feelings came flooding back. And you looked so good. So tan and in shape and I—”

“Karen, it's too late for that.” He stopped the truck in front of the gingerbread house. “We're past that now.”

“We still haven't signed the papers. We could try again.”

He couldn't stop the curse word that slipped from his lips.

“You don't have to be crass,” Karen said, narrowing her eyes. “Are you seeing somebody else?”

He remained silent.

She bit her lip before pouting. “You're not, are you? Seeing someone?”

“Karen…” he started.

“But we're not even divorced yet,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“For Christ's sake, woman, you slept with my best friend while I was in Iraq writing you love letters. You've got to be shitting me you're upset because I've moved on. Two signatures will do away with those vows we took. So hand me the papers you brought from the attorney before you climb out.”

Anger welled within him. And perhaps a smidgeon of guilt. Here was Karen, smack-dab in the middle of Oak Stand, dredging up bad memories and playing head games with him. Dragging Dawn into his mess felt selfish when he still had to deal with the instability of his former life. But with Dawn he couldn't help himself. He knew she was his future. But his past had just opened up a big ol' can of crazy on him.

Karen remained silent. Tears glittered on her mascara-laden lashes and her ruby-red lips trembled slightly. “I said I was sorry about Corbin. I missed you and he was there, you know?”

“No, I don't know. But, I've forgiven you both and it's time we all move on. With no regrets.” Tyson didn't wait for her to respond. He opened the truck door and slid out into the twilight settling around the small town. He didn't bother opening Karen's truck door. He just pulled her three bags from the depths behind the seat and set them on the curb.

She appeared at his elbow.

“I'm sorry, Tyson. For everything. But I can't stop my heart from feeling the way it does about you. No matter what, I always come back to you. I always have.” Her auburn hair brushed his shoulder as she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

Tyson muttered, “You're welcome,” then watched the
woman he'd once loved struggle with her bags as she walked the cobbled path to the Tulip Hill's door. She disappeared within the soft glow of the parlor.

He shouldn't have let her come with Laurel. He should have put his foot down.

Hell.

He started up the walk after her. He'd take her back to Dallas. But then he thought about his daughter. The words Karen had whispered about Laurel crying herself to sleep at night, about her grades slipping, her refusal to take piano anymore.

And he stopped.

If he and Dawn had a shot, they'd have to deal with everything life threw at them. That included crazy ex-wives and drama-queen daughters.

Go with the flow.

Easier said than done.

D
AWN LOOKED AROUND AT
the ladies gathered at the craft table. Several chattered as they secured the glazed squash and baby pumpkins to their arrangement. A few ladies bit their lips in concentration as their arthritic hands wielded the hot glue guns. Mary St. John stared at her arrangement in disgust.

“Problems, Mary?” Dawn asked, collecting stray pieces of raffia and torn leaves.

“This whole thing looks like a hat my aunt Millicent wore once,” Mary said, pointing to the clump of leaves, sunflowers and wired raffia. Dawn had to admit it was a bit of a mess.

“Well, surely, it's not that bad,” Dawn said, standing behind her and trying to find a good side to the arrangement.

“My aunt Millicent was blind and insisted on making her own bonnets. Trust me, it's bad.”

Dawn laughed as Tyson appeared in the doorway. Her heart leaped and she gave him a smile that also encompassed the long-legged girl standing beside him. Laurel had straight brown hair and eyes so blue Dawn could see the color from across the room. “Hey, look. Help has arrived.”

Mary focused her trifocals on the doorway. “Surely, you don't think a man could help with this. That one's not even gay.”

How well Dawn knew. Nothing feminine about her Tyson. Odd, how easy it was for her to claim him as her own. Yet they'd made no promises to one another. But Tyson acted as if they were heading toward some sort of permanent status. Or maybe she just nurtured that hope in her still vulnerable heart.

“Morning, Tyson,” Dawn called. “Have you brought us some help?”

“Morning, Dawn. Ladies,” Tyson said stepping into the room. He wasn't wearing work clothes today. Instead he wore a pair of khaki trousers and a burnt-orange rugby-style shirt.

Dawn moved across the room and extended her hand to the girl. “Hi, Laurel. I'm Dawn. It's good to meet you.”

Laurel snapped her phone shut, tucking it into her back pocket, then looked at Dawn's hand. Reluctantly, she offered her own, giving Dawn's a brief tug. “Hey.”

Tyson smiled at his daughter. “I told Dawn all about you and told her maybe you'd help with the craft project this morning. You've always loved crafts.”

“I've never loved crafts, Dad.”

“Sure you have. Remember all those bracelets you made that summer?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, when I was, like, nine.”

Dawn shot Tyson a questioning look. It was obvious Laurel didn't want to be here. “Well, you don't have to help. If you like games, some of the gentlemen in the parlor are having a boxing contest on the Wii.”

Laurel blinked. “Seriously? They're playing Wii?”

“Yeah,” Dawn said, as she pulled a bag of glue sticks from a drawer. “They're like kids your age. Obsessed with video games.”

“They're morons,” Ester said.

At this Laurel laughed.

Ester winked at the girl, her glasses flashing beneath the chandelier. “Boys don't change much, honey. If they can find some asinine thing to occupy their time, they'll do it.”

“Ester, I'm standing right here,” Tyson said.

“Well, I can see you, honey. My eyes work, but I'm too old to temper my words. Just go ahead and be offended,” the silver-haired woman said with a grin, wrapping another piece of raffia around the hurricane vase in the middle of her centerpiece. She turned to Grace and asked for a few acorns.

Dawn pulled a face, trying not to laugh. Tyson shook his head, a bemused smile on his face.

He patted Laurel on the back. “I'm going upstairs to meet with the inspector. It won't take long. Hang down here for a bit and then we'll head to the Dairy Barn for lunch. And don't let Ester eat you for lunch. Old hags like to devour young girls.”

Ester's only response was an appropriate cackle.

Dawn couldn't hold back the laugh this time. Tyson winked at her and slipped out the door.

Laurel said nothing. She plopped into a chair by the door and pulled out her cell phone and started texting.

So much for getting to know her. Dawn had wanted to form some sort of tentative relationship with Tyson's daughter, but it felt so damned awkward. The girl didn't want to be here, maybe felt some sort of vibe existing between Dawn and her father, and probably thought old people were lame.

Dawn looked at Laurel, whose shining hair fell around her face, hiding her from the rest of the world. “If you decide you want to make a centerpiece, I can
give you the materials. Or if you want to help poor Mrs. St. John out, you could do that, too.”

“Mary is hopeless,” Ester said. “I'll get down there and see if I can help her salvage that monstrosity she's put together.”

Dawn started to admonish Ester, but Mary beat her to it.

“Oh, shut up, you old windbag,” Mary said, tossing an acorn Ester's way.

Ester laughed and scooted her chair back. Being that they were former sister-in-laws, Dawn snapped her mouth shut and let them at each other. It seemed to amuse everyone else at the table.

“Hey, Mom.”

Dawn spun around to find Andrew filling up the doorway.

All the ladies around the table called out hellos. They loved when Andrew came to the center. He'd only been by once or twice, but he flirted with them and took time to notice them. She loved when he showed how kind he was.

“Hey, honey, what are you doing up and about this early?” Andrew usually slept till at least noon on vacation days. She looked at her watch. It was only 10:30 a.m.

“Uncle Jack wanted to meet the inspector and see the contractor's progress. I told Jack I'd ride in with him. We're going to head to the Dairy Barn for lunch.”

“We're going there for lunch, too.” Laurel had lowered her phone to her lap. Her eyes were on Andrew.

Her son leaned inside the door to find the voice. “Hey, when did y'all start taking in girls?”

“Who says we ain't girls?” Grace tittered.

Andrew blinked. “You know what I mean, Ms. Grace. I mean, like—”

“Hotties?” Ester piped up from the end of the table where she stood mashing Mary's centerpiece with both hands. “'Cause I'm a hottie.”

Andrew laughed, his rich baritone filling the room and making the ladies giggle. Dawn looked at her son dressed in a fitted Hollister T-shirt and worn jeans. His hair looked windblown and he'd forgotten to shave. Objectively she could say he was all-American-boy beautiful.

“Yeah, the center for hotties,” he snorted.

Dawn swore Laurel's mouth opened wider at Andrew's teasing of the older ladies. She snapped it shut and gave him a shy smile. Then she ducked her head, focusing on the cell phone in her hand.

“Drew, this is Tyson's daughter, Laurel. She's spending Thanksgiving break with her father. Laurel, this is my son, Andrew.” Dawn motioned toward the girl who looked as if she were pretending to study her phone's little flip screen, but was really darting glances at her son.

“Hey,” Andrew said, clasping either side of the doorjamb and leaning into the room. “You'll like Charlie Mac's onion rings. They rock.”

Laurel flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don't eat fried stuff. It's bad for you.”

Andrew looked stunned. “Sucks for you. You're missing out. I'll let you try one of mine, if you want.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, rising from the chair. “Maybe just one then.”

“Okay, cool,” he said. “I'm heading to the kitchen. I smell Margo's blueberry biscuits.”

Dawn nodded. “Sure, but come back before you leave for the Barn. I may want a club salad.”

Laurel hovered by her chair. “I think I'll go see what my dad's doing.”

The two kids disappeared, leaving Dawn shaking her head. See what her dad was doing? Yeah, right. More like trail behind Andrew toward the kitchen. Well, at least Laurel expressed some interest in something. Too bad it was misplaced. Dawn had a feeling Laurel was growing up way too fast. She wore too much makeup, clothes that were too tight and seemed to pay attention only to her cell phone and boys. Well, maybe that's how all thirteen-year-olds were nowadays.

Still, it worried Dawn.

If she and Tyson stayed together, rambling into some sort of future together, it would be difficult. They each had a child. A child who didn't want change. They each had an ex. Hers seemed to think she was his unpaid assistant. She had no clue what to expect of Karen, who obviously had decided to stay in Oak Stand no matter she wasn't invited. Dawn didn't even know if, in light of Karen's unexpected appearance, she and Tyson could share Thanksgiving dinner together.

Difficult
was not even the word.

Her world felt a lot like Mary St. John's centerpiece looked: a jumbled mess.

“I can't redeem this thing,” Ester declared, tossing down a bunch of artificial sunflowers. “Stick a pot of mums on the table or something 'cause this isn't going to work.”

“I guess it really is a mess,” Mary said, looking at the ruined decoration.

Dawn wasn't sure she could use the centerpiece as
a prophecy, but something told her she'd be sticking a pot of mums on her own table.

Whatever the hell that meant.

 

“S
O WHAT DID YOU THINK
about Dawn? She's nice, isn't she?” Tyson asked Laurel as he set the tray on the table. Around them the Dairy Barn hummed as usual. The place had been running for years. He'd had his first milkshake sitting at a table over by the door when he'd been seven years old. Charlie Mac, the owner, still made a hell of a milkshake. His hot, crispy French fries weren't bad, either.

“She's okay, I guess,” Laurel mumbled, shoving a forkful of lettuce into her mouth. It seemed his daughter no longer ate cheeseburgers. Her new lunch of choice was a grilled-chicken salad. “Her son is totally hot, though.”

Totally hot?
Was this coming out of the mouth of his thirteen-year-old daughter? Wasn't she too young to notice boys? “What?”

“Her son, Andrew. He's way hot. How old is he? Do you know?” Laurel darted another glance at the glass front door of the eatery. She'd been steadily watching it since they'd sat.

“He's too old for you, like, against-the-law old,” Tyson said, swiping a fry in the glob of ketchup and tossing it into his mouth. “When did you trade Build-a-Bear for boys?”

Laurel giggled. “I still like my Build-a-Bear stuff. I just like boys, too. Especially Andrew.”

“He's in college. Don't even think about it.”

At that moment, the door to the burger joint swung open and Jack and Andrew stepped in. Okay, it all made sense now. Laurel had been waiting for the boy wonder
to show. Jack caught Tyson's eye and nodded. Andrew caught his eye and glared. Great.

“Oooh, there he is. He said I could have one of his onion rings.” Laurel slid out of the booth before Tyson finished chewing his bite of burger. He couldn't protest without choking.

His daughter made a beeline for Andrew and Jack.

“Great, just great,” he muttered to no one in particular. He watched Laurel extend her hand to Jack before flipping her hair over her shoulder and hitting the glowering boy with a smile Tyson had never seen her use before. Holy crap. She was flirting.

He wadded up his napkin and threw it on the table. With a terse “Be right back,” to the busboy, he strode over to Jack and Andrew. Laurel stood beside Andrew, chattering about how good the salad was and how cool the retro diner was.

“Jack,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

Jack smiled. “Yeah, it's been a long time. If I'd known y'all were headed here, I'd have given you a ride.”

“That would've been awesome,” Laurel said, “I mean, we walked. You can maybe give us a ride back?” Laurel smiled again, her baby blues zeroing in on Andrew.

Dawn's son shifted uneasily, obviously uncomfortable with the younger girl's testing of her feminine wiles.

“Sure, we could probably give y'all a lift. Might be a tight fit.” Andrew looked to Jack for confirmation.

Jack didn't reply, but a smile hovered on the man's lips. Tyson knew exactly what the man was thinking.

“That's okay,” Laurel said, wetting her lips with a flick of her tongue. She flipped her hair over her shoulder again and tucked her hands into her back pocket. The move was made to entice, causing her small breasts to thrust forward.

Tyson stared at his daughter as if she'd sprouted a tail and horns. Maybe she had. He'd heard raising a teenage girl was rough. He wondered if he needed to fit her with a chastity belt. And throw the key in a river.

“No need. We'll be walking back. Gotta walk off this cheeseburger,” he said, rubbing his stomach. He tugged on Laurel's arm. “Come on, honey. Let's finish our lunch and allow them to order.”

His daughter shrugged out of his grasp. “Okay. But, hey, don't forget you promised me one of your onion rings, Andrew.”

Laurel whirled and sashayed back toward their booth. Tyson shrugged. “Sorry about that. She's a bit, uh, headstrong.”

Jack laughed and Andrew dismissed Tyson, not giving him a chance to greet him, instead turning toward the order board. Andrew would be a tough nut to crack. Tyson had a feeling neither Andrew nor Laurel would accept his and Dawn's relationship easily. It already felt like a whole lotta uphill hiking with boulders in his backpack.

Before heading back to the booth, he took a moment to clap Jack on the back. “Don't laugh, big boy. You've got one of those to raise yourself.”

At that Jack fell silent. Then he frowned. “Hell.”

When Tyson reached the booth, a sulking daughter met him. She'd shoved her half-eaten salad aside. “Why'd you tell them we couldn't ride with them? I don't want to walk back to that lame place.”

Tyson leveled her with a look. “Okay, missy, enough with the diva routine. First of all, you're acting like a spoiled brat. And, second, you can lay off Andrew. He's too old for you—”